Chapter Text
1 Stiles’ POV Revelations
“Oh, right. Derek said you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it.” he sneers at the hunter.
“Never.” Chris promptly answers.
“What if someone does?” Stiles exhale.
“Someone like who?” Chris Argent looks at him skeptically.
“Your sister”, Stiles spits out and stares him down and mentally hopes his conviction gets through.
“Stay here! Both of you,” Chris Argent command. Pushing Stiles hard into the wall again, like that would persuade Stiles to stay. Chris turned on his heals, grabbing the other hunter by the shoulder, and marching out through the main door of the Beacon Hill hospital. A look of realization and determination on his face.
Stiles was ready to shout a few, scratch that, many cutting words. Because he was high on adrenalin and had had enough of getting kidnapped and assaulted, slammed around and threatened, but he got eye contact with Jackson. Suddenly he remembered what they were about to do, before Chris had assaulted them.
Now though, things had change, it wasn’t just about Scott. There is more at stake. An adjustment to his plans was needed. He also felt angry because he finally understood why Peter said he wanted the bite but said no to his offer, not even an hour earlier. He now knew why Derek follow Peter despite him killing his sister.
Jackson intense and calculated look made Stiles believe he also had a revelation. Jackson straiten his now rumbled Hugo Boss suit that got wrinkle after he was being held by the hunter, while Stiles was assaulted and interrogated. Stiles himself flail out from the wall Chris had held him against and went up in Jacksons face and whispered insistently.
“We’re going! NOW!”
Stiles pulls Jackson with him through the halls and out a side door of the hospital, to avoid the Argent hunters. Jackson weirdly didn’t resist and as he follow him, Stiles got certain about what more he had to do, now after the Argent hunters assaulted him and Jackson.
In his head he went through what his dad said earlier, what Lydia said that night in the school, What Peter said at the parking garage, what Kate taking Derek implied, what Derek said about only the Argents knew about the Hale pack, what Chris said about going Rouge, and what the Police report didn’t revealed about the Hale fire. But the deaths did. He knew he had to set a line in this battle and choose side.
This was no longer about just keeping Scott alive. This was not about getting the girl, making the team or being popular.
It was about straighten up the injustice done to werewolves. It was about being equal and a part of something important. It was about who the real monsters were. It was about what was the right shade of grey. It was about not being alone and defenseless. It was about how to tip the balance of power away from the wrongdoing by the hunters and back into the hands of the ordinary supernatural and puny human population. The realization that the ones with the knowledge had the power to turn the tide.
While driving to Beacon Hill high school, his hands taps some random rhythm on the steering wheel of the Porsche, as a visual reaction on his inner turmoil. He felt so out on deep water and the only aid sat in the passenger seat with a scared look. That look was fast concealed with a fake puff out of his breast and an arrogant scoff when Jackson realized Stiles were looking at him.
“So, any thoughts?” Stiles said, after he had calm down his breathing a little, while he slowed down when they came to a light cross. Jackson looked thoughtful and was about to say something, but then put up the asshole look he lost hours ago facing the hunters.
“What about you give me back my keys, your fucking son of a bitch who couldn’t even keep Lydia safe at the winter formal. She was your responsibility freak and she’s in a coma because of you,” he yelled at Stiles while leaning over the center console of his Porsche in a threatening manner.
Stiles smack his face. Jackson looked shocked and held his hand to his left cheek. Stiles looked at him with a guilty but then angry look, just as the next words fell like uncontrollable bile out of Stiles’ ADHD mouth.
“Are you done you fucking drunk, Hugo Boss wrinkled asshole? You can’t drive. We got some serious big ass rogue, werewolf-killing hunter and potential rogue, revenge-filled werewolf induced warlike problems. And yes, Lydia looks like she’s in a coma, by a werewolf bite, and I feel partial responsible for that. We need to do something about it, but she is in the hospital and we must get our priority right. And that, Whittemore, makes your manhood-Phallus supplement, insecurity, Porsche-driving problem seem like nothing in my list of problems. And I can go on, FOR AN HOUR!” Stiles shouted whiles he flailed so hard, to get through with his points, his hand smacked the roof of the car.
“Fuuuudge!” he whimpered. Holding his hands to his chest and they breathed heavily while glaring at each other but still utterly petrified by the situations.